


One-Man Show

by gummycola



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Description of sex act, Husbands, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sexual Fantasy, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gummycola/pseuds/gummycola
Summary: Arthur watches Alfred...enjoy himself, and coaxes him into describing a fantasy of his while he does.(Pure PWP)
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58





	One-Man Show

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> Masturbation, mutual masturbation, descriptive.  
> There is also the description of a fantasy involving rough sex/lack of prep - this doesn't actually take place and isn't explicit.

Alfred had come a long way from the shy Southern boy who only made love with the lights off.

Not that Arthur had ever really felt the need to complain. The man had always been rather attentive and sweet, and endearingly eager to please. But letting go of a little bit of that self-consciousness had opened up a world of satisfying possibilities for them both.

He could still recall the moment he’d realized how successful his corruption had been. He’d been relaxing in the lounge one day when Alfred had appeared, apropos of nothing, and had asked him to suck his cock. Blithely as you fucking please. Arthur had been _delighted_.

Of course, they’d done far worse (better) than that, and he could say with confidence he was more than satisfied with their sex life. But there was still just one, teeny, tiny little thing he had never been able to get Alfred to agree to do. It really was quite vanilla, honestly, and it required minimal work. Yet it was the only request that still set Alfred’s cheeks ablaze, making him stammer and hide his handsome face in his hands.

Now, at long last, those hands were finally, deliciously, slowly…

“Do you need some help there, love?” Arthur asked with a wry look, chin propped in his hands. He could feel his own pulse against the heel of his palm, his elevated heartrate betraying just how excited he was already.

Alfred just glared, unfastening his belt at last and whipping it out of the loops unceremoniously. “Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose? Thought you weren’t supposed to touch.” He murmured, swallowing.

“Yes, indeed.” Arthur hummed, smiling easily. He leaned forward to fetch his teacup from the coffee table, regarding the other coolly over the rim as he took a sip. He was seated on the end of the couch, adjacent to the armchair Alfred was occupying. He had rearranged the furniture a bit so he wouldn’t even need to turn his head, and so that the armchair was fully facing the center of the room, leaving his husband completely exposed to him, but not near enough to touch.

As he lowered the teacup down with a clink, Alfred snapped out of his momentary stupor, nervously running his hands along his still-clothed thighs. He huffed. “I still don’t get this at all.”

“We can stop, Alfred.” Arthur said seriously, all signs of his earlier coy behavior gone in an instant. Alfred flashed him a grateful grin, but shook his head.

“It’s really okay. I mean, if you honestly, seriously want it.”

“I do.” Arthur replied, biting back the deluge of sass he wanted to spill in response to that. No one but Alfred could doubt he wanted this, after all this time.

“H’okay. Just uh, say the word, I guess, if something changes with you?”

“It won’t.” Arthur smiled sharply, his flirtatious mood returning just as quickly as it had disappeared. “This is your show, pet. You do whatever _you_ want. That’s what I’m after.”

Alfred took a deep breath and straightened up, adjusting his hoodie so he could thumb at the fly of his jeans. He popped the button open and pulled the zipper down, then shoved the denim down his hips just enough to uncover the front of his briefs.

He looked up, bright blue eyes determined, and slipped a hand down to palm himself through his underwear, face blank.

Arthur returned to his earlier pose, elbow on the armrest, head tilted into his hand. He watched Alfred’s composure slip a little, his right eye twitching, his bottom lip jutting out the tiniest bit. Finally, he shifted his weight down a bit and closed his eyes, hand moving in a solid rhythm against his crotch.

“What are you thinking right now?” Arthur asked quietly.

Alfred’s eyes snapped open, but he didn’t stop touching himself. _Good boy_. Arthur thought, smirking.

“Not really thinking anything, honestly.” Alfred laughed, a little anxiously. “Should I be?”

“Whatever you prefer. No go-to fantasies?”

“I—I get caught up in the details, you know?” And god, did Arthur ever know. His darling idiot loved to interrupt dirty talk with questions like _‘Which of the national parks are we in? Are you wearing enough sunscreen?’_ and _‘Do you think a desk like that could hold the weight of two men?’_ It was exhausting.

“Or, uh.” Alfred was pushing a little more insistently, cheeks beginning to show the faintest dust of red. “Or, if I can get into it, I finish too fast.”

“Oh?”

Alfred didn’t say any more. He just pulled his hardening cock free of his underwear, stroking up and down the shaft slowly. He was finally looking relaxed and confident, a playful little smile at the corner of his lips as he watched Arthur watch him.

Arthur had never been so turned on in his _life._ But that didn’t keep him from wanting more.

“I somehow doubt you’re usually this gentle with yourself, love.”

Alfred paused, eyebrows raised. “It’s my show, right?”

“Fair enough.” Arthur conceded. Alfred picked up the pace anyway as his member stood fully erect at last, rigid and flushed in his fist. Arthur couldn’t help but squirm a bit, his own arousal persistent and still growing. This was all about Alfred, though, and he wouldn’t dare give himself any relief.

Alfred’s high cheekbones were fully illuminated now, and he was starting to breathe heavily as he went even faster. He groaned and tilted his head back, eyelids drooping.

“Tell me how you feel.” Arthur commanded, enraptured.

“Good…feels good.”

“Tell me more. Ah, where did we leave off earlier?” Arthur was leaning forward now, legs spread, but he kept his hands firmly by his sides. “Those fantasies that make you cum? I’d rather like more details, my sweet.”

Alfred made the cutest little hiccup sound at that, hand faltering. He gripped himself but ceased all motion, pouting. “Oh, god, it’s kind of bad, though.”

Arthur had heard what his all-American golden boy considered _bad_ plenty of times before. “I’m sure I can handle it. Unless it’s about any blood relations. Or Francis.”

“Pff—it’s not like _that._ ”

“Then what is it like? Enlighten me.”

“I mean—” Alfred pumped himself distractedly, babbling. “It’s kind of rough. I—don’t get the wrong idea, but it’s. Um. Demeaning.”

He said the last word so quietly, Arthur barely caught it. “Demeaning how?”

They both lost focus when Alfred rubbed his thumb over the leaking head of his cock, the digit coming away shiny.

“It—it’ssssuper unrealistic.”

Arthur couldn’t help it—he guffawed. “It’s a _fantasy_. Just… tell me. Pretty please?”

Alfred hummed, eyes narrowed. He resumed stroking himself, but slanted his eyes away. “Come here first.”

“Pardon?”

“Come here. You’re too far away. Sit on my lap.”

Arthur laughed softly, but complied with the request, making the short trip to the armchair and crowding himself into it, arms loops around Alfred’s neck. It was a familiar position, as he rather liked invading his husband’s personal space, though they’d never done it while Alfred had his dick in his hand. Arthur enjoyed the up-close view of callous fingers on hard flesh, and sighed with delight.

“There’s not much to it. You do something, ah, naughty, and then I have to punish you.”

“Uh huh.” Not terribly unusual so far. “Punish me how?”

“We-ell, usually by bending you over that sofa—” Alfred used his unoccupied hand to indicate the couch Arthur had just vacated “and ream your ass raw. Just, pull down whatever you’re wearing and—hah.” Alfred trailed off, working himself over harder. “You get the idea.”

Arthur tried to still Alfred’s arm, sputtering. “I do not! I want to hear more.” He said hoarsely, green eyes acidic.

Alfred groaned, letting Arthur stop him so he could reach for the Englishman’s hips instead. He cupped him through his trousers and grinned as the other man whimpered. “Why don’t we make this a double act?”

“Fine, whatever—” Arthur pulled his trousers and briefs down sloppily, batting Alfred’s hand away and taking his own, severely aching member in hand. “Keep going.”

“Kay!” Alfred chirped cheerfully, eyes never leaving Arthur’s own ministrations. “So, you get mouthy about something—you know, challenge me. But you take it too far, and I just, ah. Grab you and throw you over the couch and. Well. I hold you down and pull your pants down, and then I just. Fuck you like that.”

“No preparation?”

“I told you it was unreal—” Arthur slapped a hand over his mouth and gave him a warning look. “No prep.” Alfred continued when he was released. “And I uh, won’t let you go—you know, I pull on your hair and keep you pinned down and—” Alfred whined, hand moving frantically, and Arthur knew he was close. “then I just—hah, fill you up and l-leave you like tha—” Arthur kissed him hard, shoving his tongue in his mouth, his own orgasm building up quickly.

“F-uck, babe, is it okay? God, it’s so hot, just using you like that, fucking you as hard as I can and holding you down so you can’t get away and ahhhhh.”

Alfred spilled into his own hand, eyes going wide. Arthur had to lean back as Alfred leaned forward with a jerk, mumbling something.

It was enough, more than enough, had been more than enough for ages, and Arthur followed suit, though with far less twitching and groaning. He sighed out happily and sagged into the cushion, knees bumping into the side of the chair as he collapsed onto Alfred.

Alfred rubbed a hand soothingly against his back, mouthing at his neck as Arthur tucked his head against his shoulder. “Was that good? Was it weird? Did I do it right? Was the fantasy thing too much?”

“Butt plug.”

“Woah, that’s a new insult. That bad?”

Arthur pushed away to regard him icily, though it was difficult to be intimidating with your dick hanging out. “No. Maybe? Get one, and we’ll make your fantasy reality. Butt plug and a safeword. It’s that easy.”

“You’re into it?” Alfred looked bewildered but pleased, smiling mischievously.

“Oh, no, Alfred, I hate getting dominated and fucked hard over the furniture. Of course I’m bloody into it!” Arthur cuffed him gently in the side of the head, rolling his eyes. “Four years of marriage and you don’t—can’t even—just _tell_ me.”

“You’re _welcome_.”

Arthur didn’t bother standing up, he just slid backwards into the floor like a snail, dirty and sated and annoyed and grateful. “Things I put up with.”

“The things _I_ put up with.” Alfred countered. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”


End file.
